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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022645">Renewal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/partsguy/pseuds/partsguy'>partsguy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:48:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/partsguy/pseuds/partsguy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another in this continuing series. Joan takes Morse to her fathers house to try and mend fences between them</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Renewal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Renewal<br/> I was looking at the shrubs when the door opened, shrubs that Win used to take so much pride in. Taking care that they were trimmed just so and perfectly weeded. They obviously hadn’t had that sort of attention in quite some time. The trimming, if it could be called that, was haphazard to say the least. Whoever had done it either didn’t know what they were about, or their heart wasn’t in it.</p><p>I had heard the door open and when I turned to face it there was Inspector, no former Inspector, Fred Thursday. “What do you want?” the greeting, such as it was, wasn’t surprising, but his appearance was.</p><p>While he had never been the most dapper Inspector on the force he had always been well turned out. The man that stood in the door matched the shrubs I had been looking at. Almost together, but not quite, a man who no longer really cares what others think of him.</p><p>“It’s been a while, I thought I’d stop by and see how you were getting on.” His reaction was hardly welcoming. It appeared that what he really wanted to do was slam the door in my face and go back to whatever he was doing. Perhaps it was only force of habit that prevented him from doing just that. “Do you mind if I come in?” “Suit yourself”. He turned and walked back into the house, went directly to a reclining chair and sat down. “be sure you shut the door behind you.”</p><p>After making sure the door was shut I followed him into the family room, it was apparent he wasn’t going to offer me a seat, so I went ahead and sat down in the only chair that was angled towards the small black and white TV. He was obviously far more interested in the soccer match that could somewhat be made out on the small screen than with me. The vertical control was evidently out of adjustment as the picture was continuously slowly rolling upward on the screen. Either he knew it couldn’t be fixed or thought that it might encourage me to leave, either way he made no effort to adjust it.</p><p>“Haven’t seen you around in quite a while have I?” It wasn’t as much a question as a statement of fact. A fact that there was no need to belabor. “I haven’t forgotten what you did to my Joanie you know.” </p><p>“No sir, I didn’t expect that you would have.”</p><p>“Then you’ve got a lot of nerve coming by, haven’t you?”</p><p>“No, I just wanted to come by and talk to you.” “Have you talked to her recently?”</p><p>“No, not that its any of your business.” “What’s in the bag?”</p><p>“I thought, rather I hoped, that perhaps you would be willing to have a drink with me.” “For old times’ sake.”</p><p>The reaction in his eyes told me that I was the last person he wanted to take a drink with. He certainly hadn’t gotten over what had happened, and by the looks of it was enjoying his dislike for me immensely. He didn’t even bother to answer. That in itself was enough of an answer.</p><p>I took the just purchased bottle of scotch out of the bag, carefully setting it down on the end table. “are you sure you won’t have a drink with me. ““It would be a great favor to me if you would.”</p><p>“I’ve got to go to work, and it wouldn’t do to have alcohol on my breath.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were still working.” “Guess I haven’t kept up.”</p><p>“No you haven’t bothered keeping up with a lot of things, have you?”</p><p>This conversation was going nowhere so I thought I would give it up as a bad job. “Well I don’t want to detain you, I guess I will be running along.”</p><p>“You do that.”</p><p>As I stood getting ready to walk out of the door he had one final comment. “you can leave the bottle.”</p><p>Walking back to the Jag I thought about Inspector Thursday, how at one time we had been on a first name basis but obviously not now, given his reaction to my visit. I don’t suppose I should really blame him. Certainly there was no reason to be surprised at it. Nobody, not even myself, had been happy with what had happened between Miss Thursday, calling her that, even thinking of her like that was so comfortable, and I. Hopefully the few mutual friends we had were not still as bitter as Mr. Thursday.</p><p>Getting in the car, I realized I still hadn’t done anything about that heater. Maybe that was another issue that needed to be addressed now rather than later. First step I suppose was to go by my garage and make an appointment.</p><p>If nothing else Joan’s attempt to reenter my life after all these years had shaken me out of the doldrums. Shocked me out is probably a better, at least more accurate way of looking at it. For years now, too many years, I had been adrift. Almost from the day I had walked away from her, the tears streaming down her face, I had shut off that part of my life. I hadn’t found, or even looked for a reason to get up in the morning. Of course there was work, there had always been work, but was that enough anymore? </p><p> My youth, if you could call it that, had been devoted to the pursuit of two women, girls if I was honest about it. Susan had been the epitome of everything that I believed my dream girl should be. Beautiful, blond, well bred, a family with money, and connections that might be helpful with my career. Of course she had tired of me and hadn’t been at all enamored with my vision of a life together. So she had done the only sensible thing from her perspective. She had left me without so much as goodbye.</p><p>Joan Thursday had been the antithesis of Susan. Yes, she was beautiful, but more in a girl next door sort of way. Quirky and irreverent with a quickness to laugh at or make fun of me. But not in a hurtful sort of way. She wasn’t from money or title; her father was my old boss for several years. Despite my attempts to prevent it she had captured my heart. I had been as smitten as it was possible for a man to be. How many times had I proposed to her, two, three? I had overlooked her pregnancy by another man. Everything had revolved around these two, and in the end, Joan had won out. Even after what had happened, what I had done, she still held my heart. </p><p> But what was I to do now. Now she was a married woman with two children. Even if she was at loose ends as she implied was that a responsibility I wanted to assume?  Yet could I deny any longer that I still remembered her as the woman who had once meant the world to me? </p><p>Hadn’t she reminded me that I was a detective? Maybe I needed to uncover what had happened during my self-imposed exile. Turn about being fair play it was about time I had a chat with Jim Strange. </p><p>“Can you spare me a few minutes?”</p><p>“I’m a busy man.”</p><p>“And I won’t waste any of your time.”</p><p>“Very generous of you.”</p><p>“You set me up.”</p><p>He straightened up in his chair and looked at me with that blank expression he had perfected. “Shut the door.” Then he called his secretary, “no calls, I’m in a meeting.” He replaced the receiver, leaned back in his chair, clasped both hands over his immense stomach and waited.</p><p>“why?”</p><p>“A friend asked me to do it. I owed them that.”</p><p>“You don’t seem very happy about it.”</p><p>“I wasn’t and I’m not now.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“I thought it was a mistake.” </p><p>“and?”</p><p>“I didn’t, still don’t, think you deserved it.” “She deserves far better than you.”</p><p>“That we can probably agree on.”</p><p>“Listen Morse, lets cut to the chase.” “You were never her type, but she saw something in you. That was her choice, and I wished you both the best at the time.” “Then you did what you did. I can’t say I was all that surprised. But you hurt her, hurt her badly.” “It took her a long time to get over it.”</p><p>“You can’t imagine I’m proud of that.”</p><p>“I really don’t give a dam how you feel about it.” “However for some reason she has gotten it in her head that you deserve a second chance.” “I would advise you to think carefully about how you proceed.” He paused a moment for effect before continuing. “Now get the hell out of here.”</p><p>Several Weeks Later</p><p>“Just tell her that Morse called”</p><p>“She told me that they may be late getting in, Mr. Morse, would you like to leave a message?”</p><p>No, no message just tell her that Morse called. Goodnight.”</p><p>It didn’t require all my years as a detective to catch the pleased sound in Debbie’s voice. Or to notice the pleasure that she had taken in letting me know that Joan was out with someone, probably a man, and would be getting in late. I suppose this was her way of putting me in my proper place. But it wasn’t going to work, after all I had no claims on the woman. What sort of fool would be jealous of another man’s wife, even if she was separated from her husband? I certainly wasn’t the type to do that. Not by a longshot.</p><p> No, I had always prided myself on the fact that I wasn’t a jealous man. Never had been and never intended to be. So if she wanted to go out with another man it was quite alright with me. Even though there was nobody who had been through as much together as she and I had. It was certainly her prerogative to go out with whoever she wanted. Even if he was probably wrong for her, it was none of my business. None of my business at all.</p><p>Aww, who the hell am I fooling. For more than ten years I have been lying to myself and everybody else. I’ve been a fool and now I’m getting ready to repeat the performance. Telling myself that I don’t care. Well I do care, I’ve cared from the moment she opened the door to her father’s house all those years ago. It’s time I quit fooling around. This time I’m dam well going to do something about it.<br/>Tomorrow.</p><p>“Lewis, I want you to go to the train station. Ask around, perhaps somebody will remember seeing someone matching that description.” </p><p>“Rather a slim chance don’t you think?”</p><p>“Lewis, you know enough by now..” Lewis was fortunately spared another of my lectures by the ringing of my phone.</p><p>“Yes?” “I’m busy right now but go ahead put it through.”</p><p>“Morse. Can I help you?”</p><p>“Morse, good morning.”</p><p>“Ah, hold on a minute.” “Lewis, how about pop down to the canteen and get a cup of that god-awful coffee.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, good morning.”</p><p>“Sorry to call you at work, I’m sure that you are busy, and don’t like personal calls.”</p><p>“That’s fine, I’m glad you called, how are you this morning?”</p><p>“I’m fine but Debbie told me you had called last night.” </p><p>“Yess, she said that you were out and wouldn’t be back until late.”</p><p>“I’m sorry that I missed you. Was there anything you wanted?”</p><p>What I wanted was to ask you for a date. “No, nothing, just to chat, see how you were doing. I hope her relaying that I called didn’t cause any problems with your friend.” (groan) “Listen, I’m a little busy right now. Perhaps you would like to go out sometimes?” “I mean if it wouldn’t interfere with your schedule?” </p><p>I couldn’t believe that I had handled this like some schoolboy. If she didn’t know by now that I am a little jealous she never would. </p><p>“How about I ring you later, Lewis and I have something to finish.” “Around six?” “I will call you then.”</p><p>It had taken a little coaxing on her part, but she had finally convinced me. I pulled the old Jaguar to a stop alongside the curb in front of her father’s house. Despite her assurances this still seemed like a bad idea to me. </p><p>“Come on it will be fine. “But let me do most of the talking, ok?”</p><p>Based on my last visit, I didn’t think Inspector Thursday was going to be thrilled to see me, even in, maybe especially in, the company of his daughter. She waited a moment to let me catch up to her. To her I must have resembled a man on his way to his execution.</p><p> Joan knocked on the door, while I waited, somewhat apprehensively for the Inspector to answer. When he didn’t answer I began to think that I may have gotten lucky. Perhaps he wasn’t home, as implausible as that might be. Surely Joan had told him what time she would be by. And if there was one thing about the inspector that hadn’t changed, he still loved his daughter.</p><p> “I can hear him.” Joan gave me a brave smile and whispered, “it will be all right, you’ll see.” Just then the door opened. </p><p>“Hello dad”. </p><p>“Hello, how are you” she stepped forward, gave him a peck on the cheek, but before she could say anything else he looked at me then back to her. “what’s he doing here?”</p><p>“Don’t be like that dad, you guys used to be close.”</p><p>He didn’t bother answering that, just stood aside so that we could come into the house. Once we entered the sitting room Joan took the lead suggesting where I sit, and her dad just sat there. </p><p>How have you been doing dad?”</p><p>“Making out. I suppose.” “I didn’t know that your car was in the garage.”</p><p>“It’s not, it’s fine.”</p><p>“Umm. Then why did you have to get a ride over here with him?”</p><p>“I didn’t have to get a ride. I asked him would he like to join me in visiting with you.”</p><p>“You know you are always welcome here.” The implication of course being that I was not. So far Joan’s peace making plan didn’t seem to be working very well.</p><p>“So Dad, are you still working, part-time isn’t it?” “I wish you wouldn’t do that, or at least not so much.”</p><p>“No reason I shouldn’t keep on is it? It gives me something to do, and the money, well it comes in handy.” “I still don’t see why you had to bring him along.”</p><p>I was thinking the same thing myself.</p><p>“Dad what did you have for lunch today?</p><p>“I wasn’t hungry.”</p><p>“Ok, what are you going to have for supper?</p><p>“I don’t know, I’ll fix something.”</p><p>“Let me go look and see what you’ve got in.” “Maybe I’ll fix something that you can heat up.”</p><p>“No, you don’t need to do that!”</p><p>Joan, didn’t pay him any mind, just went into the kitchen and I could hear her opening and shutting cabinets. While she was doing that the Inspector was glaring at me, making it perfectly clear that the only reason I could stay was because of his daughter. To say that I was relieved to hear Joan calling for me from the kitchen was an understatement. So I got up and went into the kitchen to see what she wanted.</p><p>“Morse, there’s nothing here. Nothing for him to eat.”</p><p>“well he’s a grown man, he will probably go to the grocery after we leave, or maybe pick up some takeaway.” She gave me a look that reminded me of the one my mother used to give me when I said something that defied reality.</p><p>“Morse, his part time job is bagging groceries at the market. There is no reason he can’t have food in the house.”</p><p>“Well, don’t expect me to say anything to him, he’s only tolerating me because of you.”</p><p>“I know how to solve this if you will help.”</p><p>“Don’t think I am going to ask him can I take him to go shopping.” </p><p>That comment caused a little conspiratorial smile to come across her face. “No, that wasn’t what I was thinking at all.” Somehow this conversation seemed to be going the wrong way.</p><p>“Would you be willing, if I give you the money, to go and pick up some things for dad?”</p><p>“What!” after the shock of that request I could only walk around in a small circle, trying to conjur up a way out of this.</p><p>“Please, just for me.” She knew that I wouldn’t ultimately be able to say no, and I hated being put in that situation. Realizing that she said. “I’ll make up a list.”</p><p>Having finished the list, she dug in her purse for some money, and handed that and the list to me. “Richardson’s would be best I think.” Before I could turn to go she leaned forward to give me a little peck on the cheek.  “Thank you.” “While you are gone, I’m going to have a little talk with dad about some things.”</p><p>Going grocery shopping has never been one of my favorite things to do. However in this case I was relieved to have an excuse to get out of the house. While I wasn’t prepared to predict how my relationship with Joan would resolve itself, it certainly couldn’t be more toxic than with her father. My shopping was leisurely, the more time I gave them to talk the better in my view. But there was a limit and I had to return to his house. </p><p>As I walked up to the house all was quiet, no sounds of shouting so if they had been rowing it was over, at least for the moment. Both arms full I was barely able to knock on the door to try and get their attention. It wasn’t but a moment or two before Joan answered the knock and offered to take one of the bags. Even though it was a struggle I couldn’t give her one of the bags, that would just give the Inspector another point against me. “I’m fine, where would you like me to put them?”</p><p>“Just bring them in here and set them on the table for the time being.” I noticed that the Inspector hadn’t moved but it was hard to decipher his mood. I suppose I would discover whether he and Joan had come to some understanding soon enough.</p><p>“Uh, I’m sorry, what did you say?”</p><p>“Were you able to find everything?</p><p>“Yes, sorry it took me so long, its not my strong suit.”</p><p>“That’s ok.” She glanced back at her father in the other room. “we had a chance to talk for a while.”</p><p>“and?”</p><p>“we didn’t agree on everything, but….”</p><p>“Everything. Particularly me?”</p><p>She looked at me in that way she had when she took a stand. “Like you.” “I didn’t change his mind, he has strong feelings about….., well strong feelings.” </p><p>“So what am I to do?”</p><p>“I made it clear that it is my life, I will see who I want to, when I want to.” “And if I can forgive, or, forget, then he just has to accept it.”</p><p>She could certainly tell that I didn’t find her words but so reassuring. But then again, I had little choice in the matter.</p><p>“Now why don’t you go in there and talk to him? You may find its not so hard. Meanwhile I will get this sorted out.”</p><p>For the second time in this visit I felt like a condemned man. </p><p>“I know you are happy to see Joan today”</p><p>“She knows she’s always welcome.”</p><p>Not exactly an auspicious start, but after trying just about all of my limited range of conversation starters we were able to move slightly, only slightly, beyond the range of simple yes or no questions and answers. You would think that for two men whose jobs were in large part getting people to talk it would be easy. But it was far from being that. In fact if it hadn’t been for Joan, it might not have gotten past that.</p><p>But she prepared a very nice meal, the Inspector ate well, and everyone was civil enough. The Inspectors conversation was unsurprisingly directed solely at Joan, but I was fine with that.  When it was over she made sure that the leftovers were put away for his next meal. </p><p>Evidently the conversation that Joan had had with her dad had taken some of the edge off the Inspector’s mood. While the conversation that we were able to have, and it was a struggle, while she was in the kitchen wasn’t exactly riveting he at least met me halfway. Perhaps while it would never be like old times, at least we could have something like a normal relationship. At one point I felt comfortable enough, barely I must admit, to tell him that I was sorry about what had happened between Joan and I. Not surprisingly I didn’t get an answer to my confession. </p><p> The meal was fine, Joan had always been a good cook, I suppose she got that from her mother, and the Inspector and she had what was for them a lively conversation. I stayed out of it for the most part trying to avoid any gaffes that might undo what ever headway I might have made. After all the primary purpose was for Joan to check in on her father.</p><p>Before we left she gave him a lecture on being sure he ate properly and to ring her if he needed anything. It reminded me of one she had given me in a pub years before.</p><p>When we were getting ready to leave Joan, at the last moment decided she had to powder her nose. Before she came back Fred took me to the side and told me, in no uncertain terms, “I hope you will be better to her this time.” Before I could respond Joan came back into the room and all I could do was give a rather limp “of course.” </p><p>With that we walked out to the car, climbed in and started back towards her house. Despite what I thought was a successful visit, Joan was lost in thought most of the way.</p><p>“Did you have a good talk with your father?”</p><p>“I wish he would take better care of himself. Ever since Mom left it seems like he has lost interest.”</p><p>For the rest of the drive home she seemed a little distant, something I attributed to seeing her fathers decline in front of her eyes.  When we arrived back at her house however it didn’t seem to really shake her from her lethargy. She was in no hurry to get out of the car at all. Finally she seemed to gather herself a little bit, and still looking out of the passenger side window, “there were several things I had to talk to Dad about.”</p><p>It was obvious that she was trying to decide whether to tell me whatever it was on her mind. Something that apparently involved me, but what I couldn’t fathom. The only thing to do was let her, in her own time, decide what, or how much she wanted to say.</p><p>“Morse, I think I’m going to file for a divorce from my husband.”</p><p>That was the furthest thing from my mind. I suppose with him being thousands of miles away I hadn’t thought about it, the children of course were a reminder, but that was all. I knew I was expected to say something, but what? The best I could do was a “are you sure?”</p><p>“I think it best”.</p><p>” Obviously you have given it some thought.”</p><p>“Yes, a great deal, for quite some time.” “I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how it would have been, could have been…. If “ she paused there and I almost expected tears. “if things had been different….. more than once you know”. </p><p>She probably was expecting me to interject, to add something to the conversation, but I had nothing. Anything which I said would be, at least from my point of view, selfish. Twice, at least twice, I had been in a position where her life, as well as mine had been at a turning point. In both cases I had failed, failed both of us really, and where had it led? To heart ache and anguish, in one case years of it although I really couldn’t say that. Was I to be given another chance to do the “right thing”? What was the right thing? Maybe it was just to encourage her to do what was best for herself and her family? To make a decision that could only be judged years off into the future. After all her divorcing her husband really didn’t involve me. It was however a step, a necessary step towards reclaiming her freedom. That I suppose was the right way to look at it.</p><p>“if I can help in any way,” she looked at me as if she was expecting something more, smiled and said, “I know” and pulled the door handle to open the door. I escorted her to the door. Somehow the distance seemed to have gotten shorter since I had last been there only a few hours before. </p><p>At the stoop she stopped, and began digging through her handbag for her keys, while I waited with her. Still digging through the purse she told me, “I would ask you in, but I know you have a full day tomorrow.”</p><p>“Of course” I thought about it and told her, “well your father isn’t here to tap on the window……like before”. It took her a moment to understand the reference, when it dawned on her she broke out into that beatific smile I remembered. Then, having found her keys, she stepped towards me, put one hand on my lapel and gave me a kiss like her father would have disapproved of.</p><p>She stepped back away from me, unlocked the door and before going inside told me “goodnight Morse”.</p><p>“Good night Joan”  </p><p>“Well that didn’t go very well” I thought.</p>
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